The Idiot's Guide to Seduction
by Petite Samedi
Summary: Eowyn takes it into her head to "seduce" her lover, Galadriel, but things don't go as planned. Femmeslash. Written as an answer to a challenge for a community I post to. I await thwacks upside the head.


**~**Written for the Imperfect Sex challenge~

**Title: **The Complete Idiot's Guide to Screwing Over Seduction.

**Author:** Sangrita deLenfent

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing:** Eowyn/Galadriel

**Disclaimer: **fictional characters!! And as much as I would **like** to own Eowyn (or Miranda Otto, as the case may be) I don't. And that makes me sad…except that I have a girlfriend anyway and she's better ^.^

**Summary: **I'm patiently waiting to be thwapped upside the head with whatever weapons you should choose to pull from hammerspace. Eowyn's POV, written in a rather modern style.  Femmeslash.

**Archive: **I'd be delighted…providing that you ask first.

**Feedback: **I'll be your bitch if you leave comments. I'm a reviewslut.

**Finished in: **about thirty minutes

**Notes:** Methinks I've written enough here. If I've pissed you off…deal with it ^.^ There's worse people out there than me. *kiss* 

            "Eowyn, exactly **what **is it that you're doing?" 

I give my newfound lover my best completely-exasperated-yet-drop-dead-gorgeous stare. Is she **questioning** the fact that I'm standing before her in a new ensemble made entirely of white lace, and holding a glass of white wine?

I've never done this seducing thing before but I'm sure I'll be good at it…even with this uncommon femininity.

"I'm seducing you." 

She just blinks in surprise. I thought Galadriel was supposed to be a mind-reader!?

"You don't look at all like yourself," she says evenly, shifting her weight to one foot, the beginnings of an amused smile haunting the corners of her gorgeous mouth.

Damn it. It's the lace. I **knew** it. Once you develop a reputation for being a more "masculine" type of woman, if you make one small change **everyone **notices and no one takes you seriously.

"I feel more like myself than I ever have," I say sweetly, making a conscious effort to appear extremely desirable (but aware that I probably look more the idiot than the temptress.) "Which means that I want you more than ever."

Where the Hell did I come up with that one! I'm not sure this is going to work. Somehow, though, I'm still shoving down all these misgivings.

Did I mention that lace lingerie is horrendously uncomfortable?

She arches an eyebrow at me, still not used to this. I have the feeling that she's trying to hide a smile. 

At least she's being gracious. 

Why do I have the feeling this is not going to work out at all?

I press myself flush against her, leaning into the perfection of a willowy Elven body, my lips awkwardly finding hers, clamping down too hurriedly and too clumsily, seeking to part her lips with a forceful tongue.

I have never, ever, ever kissed a woman before.

I think she opens her lips to me more from sympathy for my efforts than anything else. 

My kiss is not a good one: too demanding, too probing; too inexperienced. Still, she tolerates it, kissing back skillfully. Male or female, I can tell it makes no difference to her. She is confident and I am unsure: why am I the one attempting the seducing, here! 

I just wanted a bit of novelty, but maybe it's much too soon. I know it's too soon. 

Timidly, I try to convince my hands to wander down her body, but can't seem to manage it. If she got offended, or if I didn't have the right touch, I would hate myself.

I take a deep breath.

Unsure, I run my hands slowly along her sides, but break the kiss because my efforts aren't igniting much of anything. Growing bolder, I rest my head against her shoulder and bring one hand up to cup her right breast, my other arm encircling her impossibly slender waist.

She doesn't react. This is getting frustrating. I was never good at the slow seduction.

I step back, twisting my hands nervously.

"Listen, lover," I say finally. "Let's just give up on this and go to bed."

Laughing, she shakes her head.

"Not now, Eowyn," she tells me, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with mirth beneath a crown of golden hair. " I think I'll wait until you've put all your strange ideas out of your head. Besides, I have a headache."

What did she just say?

"You're an Elf!" I protest. "You don't **get** headaches!"

"I do now."

"Liar…"

"You're sleeping on the couch tonight!"

Goddamn!

She exits the room, the skirts of her flowing gown trailing behind her, her shoulders shaking slightly with what I have the sneaking suspicion is laughter.

Stupid lace is driving me insane.

Oh well…there's always a next time. And even Galadriel won't be able to resist the tempting combination of duct tape, Easy Cheese and myself…

I hope.


End file.
